


Hot for Teacher

by oceansgrey



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Getting Together, M/M, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:53:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23458885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceansgrey/pseuds/oceansgrey
Summary: Madara is a single dad to his beloved little hellion Obito, and gets reunited with a middle school friend when he realizes that nerdy Hashirama is now a strong, handsome and loving kindergarten teacher.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara, Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Izuna
Comments: 28
Kudos: 126





	1. Baby Steps

**Author's Note:**

> I was playing some Ace Attorney and thought about a modern AU where Madara was a lawyer and it spiraled from there.  
> I wrote this about a year ago, so I'm going to post as much as I have written so far, and I may continue depending on how I feel.  
> Thank you for reading!

Madara was a man who tended to face whatever life threw at him with everything he had. He had suffered through years of law school, through countless hours of studying and forcing himself to be the top of his class. Things seemed to fall into place after he passed the bar exam, taking over what had once been his father’s firm. While his cousins were marrying and beginning families, he was a ruthless terror in court, undefeatable.

At least, he was, until life gave him an unexpected shock that came in the form of his closest cousin as messenger.

“What do you mean, ‘he’s mine’?” Madara snarled, glaring down at his cousin.

“He’s yours,” Naori said, shifting the baby in her arms. “I got a call not too long ago from some woman who said he’s yours, and she signed off her parental rights. We can order a test if you don’t believe me, but he’s _definitely_ an Uchiha, and he looks just like you,”

The words sank in, his heart stopped for a brief second.

A DNA test determined that yes, the baby definitely was his, Madara assuming full custody. A short fling that he had honestly forgotten about apparently ended with the infant, now tucked safely into Madara’s arms.

“I have no idea how to take care of a baby,” Madara said, watching as Naori did a quick check around his house. “The baby can barely move on his own, I don’t see why you have to plug all of my outlets with those stupid plastic things,”

“He’s four months old, Madara,” Naori huffed. “Babies get into things. And he has a name, you know,”

Madara looked down at the baby in his arms, feeling a swell of affection towards the infant that looked an awful lot like the baby pictures he had of himself. The baby blinked wide, curious black eyes up at him, opening his mouth and cooing.

“Obito is a stupid name,” Madara said. “I would have named him something better,”

“Well, it’s his, so call him by his name,” Naori let out a content sigh. “I’m not babysitting for free. Baru isn’t, either, and don’t you _dare_ try to rope in Hikaku,”

“You all are the worst cousins I’ve ever had the displeasure of being related to,”

Naori shrugged.

“You reap what you sow,” she said, grabbing her bag before heading to the door. “Welcome to fatherhood, Madara,”

She slammed the door behind her, leaving them alone, and Madara, for the first time in a while, was genuinely scared.

The first few months of parenting went rocky. Madara wasn’t used to caring for something that wasn’t himself, especially something as weak and feeble as a baby. Obito was fussy when Madara tried working from home, balancing the baby in his lap while typing away on his laptop, trying to get any semblance of work done. Bringing Obito to the office was usually the best option, since the baby slept while his secretary got to coo over how cute he was as Madara worked. Obito also was fond of trying to get himself injured, like trying to roll of the changing table, shrieking with laughter after Madara caught him, nearly giving his father a heart attack. He was also a loud baby. He recently realized that he could scream just for the fun of it, shrieking his loud baby babble to alert his father that he had yet again knocked the bowl of baby food from his high chair when Madara got up from his seat to heat up his coffee.

“Obito,” he groaned, picking up the now dirty spoon and bowl. “You made a mess,”

Obito smacked at the tray of his high chair, letting out another long string of baby babble.

Madara couldn’t deny how much he did genuinely love his baby, even if Obito sometimes spit up on his dress shirts right before he had to go to work. However, he was also looking forward to when Obito would be older and a bit more independent. Changing diapers was getting tiresome. 

“Well, this is something I thought I’d never see,” Izuna said, leaning against Madara’s counter, a cup of coffee in hand. “I don’t see you for a semester and suddenly I have a nephew? Shame on you, big brother, for not telling me!”

“I’ve been busy,” Madara said, searching around to make sure he packed Obito’s favorite pacifier. “I was going to call, but you seemed busy,”

“Busy doing nothing!” Izuna cried.

“You’re busy with school!”

“Yeah, doing nothing!”

Madara narrowed his eyes, placing Obito into his car seat, thankful that his son was sound asleep.

“Then why am I paying your tuition?”

Izuna shrugged, looking down at his sleeping nephew. Obito gripped a toy fan in one chubby little fist, the other in his mouth.

“Aww, look at you,” Izuna cooed. “Are you trying to eat your fingers in your sleep?”

“Don’t,” Madara shielded Obito. “Don’t talk to him like he’s an idiot,”

“He’s a baby, Mads. What, do you read him your boring case files? He’ll be two speaking like he’s some little diplomat. ‘Why, hello Father. I would like to have some brie with my snack of goldfish crackers,’ geez, Madara,”

Madara rolled his eyes, grabbing his shoulder bag now turned diaper bag.

“Let’s just go to this stupid family reunion already,”

Madara hadn’t seen most of his family outside of Naori, who happened to work in social services and he saw her through work, and Izuna whenever he came home to visit from college. He dreaded family reunions, and since his father died, he had become the one who was usually tasked to host them. Thankfully, he had asked Hikaku to do it, cashing in on a favor from when they were teens and Hikaku had gotten into trouble with the law and Madara somehow managed to sweettalk the officers into letting him go. That little incident was what had actually made Madara realize his potential to be a lawyer.

They were all meeting at Hikaku’s home, and Madara, as technical family patriarch since his father passed, was instantly regretting it.

“Is that your baby?” his younger cousin, Mikoto asked as she peered into Obito’s car seat. “He’s so little! Can I hold him?”

Madara looked down at her, his favorite cousin. She was only his favorite since she was eleven and not as annoying as she possibly could be, and when she had been three she had declared him her favorite cousin out of all of them. In all the years he’d seen her grow, she had never been a troublesome kid.

Her friend, however, was.

“Can I hold the baby, too?” Kushina asked, more shouting than actual talking. Kushina had been Mikoto’s best friend since preschool, the two attached to the hip.

“Only if you sit down,” Madara reasoned, watching the redhead as she bounced up and down. “And you have to stay still,”

“Okay!” Kushina plopped herself down on the couch beside Mikoto. Madara unbuckled Obito out of his car seat, jostling the sleeping infant slightly. Obito made a noise, blinking open his eyes at the new people around him as Madara passed him gently to Mikoto.

“He’s so cute,” she said.

“Of course he is. He’s my son,” Madara said proudly.

“Nah, he’s only cute ’cause he’s a baby, ya know,” Kushina said.

He didn’t like Kushina much, but then again, she was still a kid.

He could let it slide just this once. 

“Look at Dad of the Year over here,” Hikaku joked, coming to stand behind Madara. He laughed as Madara stiffened, not liking anyone at his back. “C’mere. Naori made inari for you. Take a little break, the girls are perfectly capable of watching Obito,”

Madara was in the middle of a Uchiha family argument when he heard the sound of Obito beginning to fuss.

An Uchiha family reunion was never complete without an argument, and Izuna happened to bring up politics which then divulged into differences of opinions on practically anything and everything, which resulted in Naori threatening to throw an expensive vase at him for being a little shit and Hikaku resigning himself to the corner with Madara as he drank throughout the argument. Kagami tried being the voice of reason, his attempt to mediate futile as Naori slammed her hands down onto the countertop, seething with rage as she argued with Izuna over family matters. Baru just sat back and winced every time his wife’s voice peaked, hesitant to stop Naori from all but leaping over the counter and strangling Izuna. 

Mikoto came walking into the kitchen slowly, Obito beginning to fuss and push his way away from her, one little fist tugging on her hair. If it hurt, she made a good point to not show it, but the look on her face was a silent plea for help.

“Here,” she handed him off to Madara, turning and heading back to Kushina. Oh, how Madara missed the days where he could just hand a crying or smelly infant off to it’s parent and flee.

Now he was that parent, and even though he absolutely hated changing diapers and dealing with messes in general, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Big brother?” Izuna called out, tiptoeing around Hikaku’s house. Everyone had ended up falling asleep at some point or another, Izuna having to step over Kushina and Mikoto fast asleep in a pile on the living room floor, a board game out in front of them. Hikaku fell asleep outside on his porch, lounging in his chair. Naori was asleep at the table, head down with her emptied wine glass next to her. Kagami was snoring on the couch, slumped against one of their other cousins. Baru had curled himself up into the recliner, a blanket haphazardly thrown on him.

All Izuna could find were aunts, uncles, cousins, but no Madara.

He pushed open the door to the guest bedroom, smiling at the sight before him.

Madara was asleep sitting up on the bed, back resting against the headboard. Obito was clinging to his shirt, drooling onto his shoulder where he slept. It looked like Madara had been reading him a book, and from what Izuna could barely make out in the dimly lit room, it was something wordy and definitely boring.

He never expected he’d be an uncle. Madara was the type to sneer at parents with kids, since he had thought they were all money-grubbing hellions that were a curse to unfortunate souls. Now, watching his brother hold his son close even in his sleep, he realized that maybe his brother did have a soft spot after all.

Izuna snapped a quick picture on his phone, something he’d send Madara later.

He also would neglect to comment once he noticed it later became his elder brother’s phone wallpaper.

2.

Obito crept down the hall from his room as stealthily as a three year old could be, sliding in through the cracked door and into Madara’s room.

Madara was passed out in bed, still dressed in his slacks and dress shirt from work the day before. His hair fell over his face like a curtain, and Obito scrambled up the bed to pull his hair from his eyes.

“Daddy, wake up,” Obito said, not so gently patting at Madara’s cheeks.

Madara groaned, pressing his face into the pillow for a moment until he realized he couldn’t breathe. His nose felt stuffed to the brim with what felt like cotton, his head and chest ached, his whole body felt drained of energy.

“Obito,” he said, sniffling. “Dad doesn’t feel well. Can you get my phone?”

“Okay,” Obito patted around the bed before he retrieved Madara’s phone, quickly unlocking it.

“Call Uncle Izuna,” Madara said, holding out his hand and making the motion to grab for it. Obito knew how to look for Izuna’s contact, clicking the button to connect the call. Obito clicked the speakerphone button, holding the phone over towards Madara.

“Hello?” Izuna sounded too chipper for six in the morning.

“I’m sick,” Madara whined. “I need you to watch Obito,”

“Only for my favorite nephew,”

“He’s your only nephew,” Madara bit out. “Are you coming or not?”

“Is the door unlocked?”

“I can unlock it,”

“See you in a few, then,”

“Bye,”

“Bye,”

Izuna slipped his shoes off the minute he shut the door behind him. He heard the familiar pitter patter of his nephew barreling down the hall, Obito nearly slipping into Izuna.

“Whoa, there, cruiser,” Izuna caught Obito, preventing him from falling flat on his face on the hard wood floor. “Where’s Dad?”

“Sleeping,” Obito said. “He said his tummy hurts,”

Izuna smiled down at his nephew, seeing the genuine concern written across his face.

“Want to make him feel better, kiddo?” Izuna asked, watching Obito’s face light up. “Alright. Get dressed, and we’ll head on out,”

Izuna walked up the stairs to Madara’s bedroom as Obito ran back to the kitchen, where he must have thrown off his shoes the day prior. The door to Madara’s room was open, revealing that yes, his undefeatable brother was curled up in bed, dead to the world, a bottle of cold syrup sitting on his nightstand. He must have just taken it shortly before Izuna came, especially since he had left his apartment not even ten minutes prior.

“Ready!” Obito shouted from downstairs.

Izuna shut off the light and the door silently, creeping back downstairs.

“Can we take Daddy’s car?” Obito asked, jumping up and down.

Izuna eyed Madara’s car keys to his BMW, then the keys to his Prius.

Slamming his keys down, he picked up his brother’s, knowing that he wouldn’t mind if Izuna took it for just a simple trip to the grocery store.

“C’mon, kiddo. Let’s go,”

Obito was always a ball of energy, and no matter how much coffee Izuna had that morning, he felt like he couldn’t keep up.

In the two seconds it took Izuna to grab a grocery basket and put his reusable bag in it, making sure his wallet was in his pocket, Obito had run off over to the vegetables, standing up on his toes to look at the peppers.

“Can we get Daddy spicy ones?” he asked, looking up at Izuna with his eyes wide. Izuna stifled a giggle, the goggles his nephew insisted on wearing casting an orange shine across his face.

“I don’t think Dad likes spicy ones, babes,” Izuna ruffled his hair. “Here, I’ll let you hold the ginger, okay?”

“Okay!” Obito nodded, watching as Izuna grabbed a large piece of ginger root. He handed it to Obito, his nephew holding it in his grasp as if it were a precious jewel.

“If you’re good,” Izuna said, watching Obito’s face light up. “I’ll buy you some candy, but you can’t tell Dad, and we have to eat it in the car,”

Obito nodded furiously, following after his uncle as they traversed the grocery store. He hummed to himself, something that vaguely sounded like the theme song to one of his preschool shows he watched.

Izuna was busy looking at his list and a package of chicken when someone he hadn’t seen in years approached him, startling him into dropping the package in his hands.

“Izuna?”

“Tobirama?” Izuna raised an eyebrow. “Holy shit, man. It’s been ages,”

“Still as vulgar as ever,” Tobirama folded his arms over his chest, looking down at Obito. “I see your promiscuity in high school never ceased, either,”

“Oh!” Izuna looked down at Obito, now clinging to his pantleg. “This is Madara’s son!”

Tobirama looked like Izuna had just told him the world was ending in three minutes.

“No way,”

“Yes way,” Izuna said, putting his hand on Obito’s head. “Mads is sick, so mini and me are getting stuff to make him soup. How’ve you been, other than your average stick-in-the-ass Tobirama?”

“Uncle Izu, that’s a bad word,” Obito scolded. “Daddy said no bad words,”

“Sorry, babe,”

“I’m fine,” Tobirama said.

“Home from college?”

“I’m working on my dissertation,”

“Congrats,” Izuna feigned a smile. “Well, nice seeing you, but the brat and I have to go,”

Izuna steered Obito away from Tobirama, pretending to not notice the Senju glaring holes into his back.

“Uncle Izu, who’s that?”

“An old friend,” Izuna lied. “Let’s go pick out your candy, okay?”

“Yeah!”

Izuna took a turn too sharp and too close to a telephone pole, startling as he heard the distinct _clink_ of glass breaking. Obito swayed a bit in his car seat, mouth wide as he looked at the passenger side mirror that was now bent downwards and dangling by its wiring, the glass shattered.

Izuna’s eyes widened as he glanced back at his nephew.

“Don’t tell Dad. I’ll buy you a new toy, I promise,”

“Okay,”

Madara woke up a few hours later, miserably congested. His throat and chest ached when he coughed, and all he really wanted was a hot shower, some comfortable clothes, and another nap.

He forced himself out of bed despite his muscles aching in protest. His shirt and pants were wrinkled from sleep, and he grimaced as he undressed before heading into his bathroom.

Madara set about his routine, letting the hot water hit his back as he worked through cleaning his hair and body, wincing as he kept hitting snags in his hair. Dealing with his hair was too much when he was so tired and sore, his arms feeling more like heavy weights than actual appendages, opting instead to feel the heat on his skin as he leaned against the cool tile. He tiredly blinked his eyes, feeling the worst he had been in a long time.

Work had been so stressful lately, working on a case where his client was accused of triple homicide. He did it, and even though Madara really would want him to get locked up for good, he had a job as a lawyer to at least attempt to get a bargain or a reduced sentence. It’s what he got paid for. Other than making sure Obito was taken care of, Madara had been neglecting his own needs, and that also had meant slacking on his sleep and eating.

It was also late spring, and the change in season usually made his allergies act up. Obito had just been whining the other week about his nose, which he had rubbed nearly raw from blowing it constantly.

There was a knock on the bathroom door, pulling Madara from his thoughts.

“We made food,” Izuna’s voice called from behind the door.

Madara found himself smiling slightly as he washed the rest of the soap from his body and the conditioner from his hair, ready to see whatever hellish concoction Izuna made for him.

Izuna, the brother who would put horseradish on Madara’s sandwiches when they were children and lied saying that it was mayonnaise. His little brother who once mixed canned cat food with mayonnaise and fed it to Madara under the guise of a tuna fish sandwich when they were in high school. Countless other times Izuna had “cooked” for Madara and he ended up suffering with food poisoning.

Hopefully whatever Izuna made him would clear his sinuses.

Obito nearly fell out of his seat once Madara finally shuffled his way into the kitchen, dressed in clean pajamas and trying to stifle a cough. Obito tackled his legs with a tight hug, buzzing with excitement.

“Uncle Izu and I made you soup!” Obito shouted.

“You did?”

“It’s just chicken noodle,” Izuna said from the stove, a bowl in hand as he placed it down at Madara’s seat. “I added ginger for you, but Obito wanted to put hot sauce and peppers in yours,”

“You didn’t put anything questionable into this, did you?” Madara eyed his brother warily.

“I followed Mom’s recipe,” Izuna said, sliding the bowl closer to Madara as he sat down. “Eat it,”

Madara looked down at the bowl, which seemed like a normal bowl of soup. Hesitantly, he took his spoon and took a bite.

“Not bad,” he said, despite being barely able to taste it.

“Told you so,” Izuna said. “I made Obito dinner already and called you out of work tomorrow. I took a sick day so I can watch Obito,”

Madara gave his brother a lazy smile before going back to eat.

He’d have no idea what he would do without his brother.


	2. First Day Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obito's first day of kindergarten

“Daddy?”

Madara groaned, pressing a pillow over his head.

“What, Obito?”

“Can I sleep with you?” Obito asked, lip out and trembling. “I had a bad dream,”

Madara groaned a bit louder, feeling the dip in the mattress as his son crawled up onto the bed. He felt two pats on his back, and then the pillow was tugged from his face.

“Daddy?” Obito looked ready to break out into tears. “I’m scared,”

Madara sighed, letting Obito nestle under the blankets and close to him.

“I had a dream about this bunny lady, and the moon was red and she was so scary,” Obito rambled, reaching out and wrapping his arms around Madara’s left arm, clinging tightly. “And then you were really scary, and there were all these monsters, and I had red eyes, and-”

“Obito, there’s no monsters,” Madara said, taking the hand Obito wasn’t clinging onto to reach up and ruffle his hair. “I’m here. You’re fine,”

“Okay, Daddy,” Obito sniffled, pressing his face into Madara’s arm. “Can you tell me a story?”

Madara sighed, shifting to fumble for the light on his bedside table and for his copy of a book on Konoha’s military history. Obito settled into his side as Madara flipped open to the page he had last left off on, droning on about a famous battle.

Once he heard the sound of Obito’s breathing even out, his son finally back to sleep, Madara let himself smile softly. He clicked off the bedside light before nestling back into bed, able to sleep soundly.

Today was an eventful day in the Uchiha household.

Obito stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, mirroring Madara’s movements as they brushed their teeth.

“Dad?” Obito asked, looking up at Madara. “Can I wear a suit to kindergarten?”

“No,”

“Why?”

“Because you’d look silly,” Madara put his toothbrush down, reaching for a brush to try to tame Obito’s hair, a futile task he still tried to accomplish. “Just wear what you’re wearing now,”

Obito pouted, arms folded across his chest. He had picked out his outfit that consisted of his favorite blue shorts and orange shirt and it’s what he had insisted on wearing for his first day of school for the past week, but of course the day of he had to be difficult.

“But you get to dress up!”

“I have to wear this for work, brat,” Madara lightly pinched his cheek. “Are you going to be good for your teacher?”

“Yeah!” Obito nodded, the brush catching on a tangle in his hair. “Ow! You pulled!”

“Quit moving,”

“Sorry,”

“Uncle Izuna’s picking you up from school today,” Madara explained, turning Obito to look at him. Madara reached over to grab the medicated eye drops he placed on the counter, tilting Obito’s head back and prying open his right eye. Somehow, he managed to get pink eye before the start of the school year, nothing a bit of eyedrops and careful watch could fix. “Don’t fuss with your eye today,”

Obito squirmed under Madara’s grasp, whining as Madara squeezed the bottle of eyedrops. Obito squeezed his eye shut as soon as the drop hit it, frowning.

“There, not so bad,” Madara said, grabbing the eyepatch.

“I don’t wanna wear the eyepatch,” Obito pouted. “I look stupid,”

A quick knock on the bathroom door alerted their attention, Izuna swinging open the door.

“There’s my favorite nephew!” he cheered. “All ready to go?”

“Obito’s being stubborn,” Madara huffed.

“I don’t wanna wear the eyepatch,” Obito repeated, looking at his uncle for some sort of sympathy.

“But you can look like a pirate!” Izuna reasoned, and Obito’s face lit up. He took the eyepatch from his brother, setting it into place on Obito’s face. “See?”

Madara rolled his eyes, swatting at his foolish little brother.

“Come on, or else Obito will be late,” Madara patted his pockets, doing a double check to make sure his wallet and keys were there. “Izuna, don’t take him out for junk food after you pick him up. Obito doesn’t need that garbage,”

Izuna and Obito pouted, and Madara could definitely see the family resemblance. His son and brother had mastered the Uchiha pout.

“Come on, let’s go,” Madara reiterated. “I have a meeting at nine-thirty,”

The drive to the elementary school was relatively silent, Obito humming to himself in the backseat as he read a book.

“Who’s his teacher?” Izuna asked, watching as they pulled up to the school, parents and children rushing about.

“One of the Senjus,” Madara watched Izuna roll his eyes. “Probably Tsunade. I think she was going into childhood something,”

Izuna groaned.

“C’mon, bud,” Izuna turned to Obito. “Ready for your first day?”

Obito shook his head, pouting. Oh no, the brothers knew that face. Crocodile tears began to form, bubbling over as Obito started to cry.

“I wanna stay with you,” Obito whined. “I don’t wanna,”

Madara only got Obito to quell his sobs by offering to carry him to the classroom and drop him off himself, even though he had had hopes that his son would want to go off on his own. Then again, Obito was only five, and the only other people he had ever really known was his family members and Madara’s staff at work, so his irrational fear of being left alone without his father or uncle was at least somewhat understandable.

However, Madara really wanted Obito to stop wanting to be carried around so much, especially if he wouldn’t stop tugging on his hair.

“Room 4,” Izuna said, looking down at Obito’s little sheet full of information. “Mr. Senju? Don’t tell me it’s Tobirama. Remember that time I shoved him in a locker in middle school, Mads?”

Madara shushed Izuna, shooting him a look.

“Not in front of Obito. I don’t need him hearing that and repeating that behavior,” he hissed, Obito’s hiccupped breathing filling the hall.

Madara stopped in front of the open door, peeking into the classroom. There were a handful of children in there already, playing about. He silently hoped Obito would make some sort of friends, hopefully with a good kid and not some sniveling brat who ate paste.

Madara had been in the same class with Naori when they had been in kindergarten all those years ago, and she was the one who used to eat glue. He still never let her live that down, just like how she never let him forget the time when they were five and he bawled for a solid five minutes when he lost his first tooth, demanding Tajima to “put it back” as she laughed at him.

“Alright, Obito,” Madara said, shifting Obito to set him down. “Here’s you backpack,”

Obito wiped his nose with the back of his hand, sniffling miserably.

“I don’t wanna go,” Obito said, the tears starting back up again. “Can I stay home with Uncle Izuna?”

“No can do, babe,” Izuna reached down to ruffle his hair. “I have to go to work, too, but I’ll come to pick you up! I’ll bring you something special if you’re good, okay?”

Obito shook his head, one watery eye looking back up at his father.

“Please, Daddy?”

“Obito, we-”

“Having a hard time?”

Madara was interrupted by someone behind him, jolting him. He hated people at his back, and he was ready to turn around and say something, but once he laid eyes on the man behind him, his heart skipped a beat.

The man before him was absolutely stunning. He was tall and strong, nice muscles shown by the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt. Long, chocolate brown hair flowed over one shoulder, sun-kissed skin glowing. He had beautiful honey colored eyes he instantly knew, as if anyone could forget eyes like those.

Once Madara looked at his face, his cheeks burned up with recognition.

“Hashirama?!”

“Madara!” Hashirama smiled, his bright white smile nearly blinding. He threw his arms around Madara, all but lifting him up off the floor. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“High school,” Madara supplied, trying hard not to think about the cologne Hashirama was wearing, the earthy and woodsy smell tantalizing.

“What are you two doing here?” Hashirama released Madara, smiling and waving in greeting to Izuna.

“My son,” Madara blurted. “He, uh, here. Do you have any…?”

Hashirama let out a boisterous laugh. He was so different from the Hashirama he once knew, the two having met in middle school. Hashirama had a bowl cut, braces, and had been a tad scrawny and tall. They last saw each other when they were about fifteen, when Hashirama and Madara were honors students, both as awkward as any normal teen before Madara and Izuna left to go finish high school at a private school.

“This is my classroom!” Hashirama said, looking down at the little Uchiha hiding behind Madara’s legs. “This is your son? Wow, I didn’t know you had a kid! Where’s your wife?”

Madara felt his face burn up even more.

“I don’t have one,” he bit out.

“Ah,” Hashirama filed away that information for later, crouching down to be more level to Obito. “Hi! I’m Mr. Senju. I’ll be your teacher. It’s nice to meet you!”

He held out a hand, watching Obito nervously reach his out and shake his hand.

“He’s a bit shy,” Izuna said. “He’s not really used to being away from us,”

“That’s fine,” Hashirama said, standing back up. “I deal with a lot of kids like that. I’ll take good care of him, Madara. You have no need to worry,”

Madara reached into his wallet, pulling out one of the extra business cards he kept on him.

“Just call me if he’s too much trouble, Hashirama,” Madara said, watching Hashirama examine the black card.

“I’m sure he’ll be a delight,” Hashirama winked, and Madara felt his heart nearly seize.

_When had he become so handsome?_

Obito tugged on Madara’s hand, looking a lot better.

“Bye, Daddy,” he said, reaching his arms up. Madara fought the urge to roll his eyes as he knelt down, letting Obito hug him tightly.

“Be good,” he said, and Obito nodded against his shoulder. Madara pressed a small kiss to the top of his head before Obito wiggled out of his arms and hugged Izuna tightly before heading over to the cubby labeled with his name.

“I’ll see you all later?” Hashirama said.

“Yeah,” Madara managed, offering a small wave goodbye.

Hashirama shut the door to the classroom behind them, Madara making a beeline for the front exit to get to the car.

“Wow, Hashirama really grew up,” Izuna said, following after Madara. “He’s built like a damn tree,”

He was, and Madara wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. All he knew was that Hashirama was undeniably handsome, and the childhood crush he had on him was becoming rekindled.

He was late to his meeting.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Madara mumbled under his breath, walking faster to get to his office. He barely acknowledged his secretary as he stormed in, his mind completely overtaken by thoughts of Hashirama.

Today couldn’t get any worse, he reasoned.

At least, he had assumed things couldn’t get worse, Kaguya seated in his office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think! :)


	3. Unwanted Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obito's birth mother makes an unwelcome appearance at Madara's lawfirm office

“Madara, it’s been too long,” Kaguya smiled, greeting him as if he were an old friend.

“Don’t you have some town to be terrorizing, you she-demon?”

“Harsh words for the mother of your child,” Kaguya feigned hurt, pouting as she brought a hand to her chest. “How is Obito?”

“Fine,” Madara snapped, circling his desk to sit down. “What are you doing here? If it’s about Obito, you signed away your rights to call yourself his mother, and you can turn around and leave immediately,”

“Oh, I could care less about that,” Kaguya waved, shifting in her seat.

She was just as Madara had last seen her, strikingly beautiful. The beauty was just a façade to disguise the rotten person she was at her core, conniving and cruel. He sadly remembered when he first met her, the prosecuting attorney winking at him from across the courtroom. Kaguya could talk her way into anything, sweettalk herself out of trouble, and could use her charm to get the power she truly craved or charm herself into anyone’s bed.

Madara regretted ever being with her, but at least she had given him Obito, but even then, he only knew about his son _after_ she had abandoned him.

He clenched his jaw, scowling.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” she frowned, red glazed lips pouted out. “I just got into a little bit of legal trouble, and I would like you to represent me,”

“You’re a lawyer. Do it yourself,”

“That’s not nice,”

“I’m not a nice man, especially after what happened,”

Kaguya narrowed her eyes, glaring at Madara as hatred just came off her in waves. He recognized the twitch in her right eye, the one she got in court when things didn’t go her way.

“I’m being accused of misconduct in court,” she said. “It would mean a lot if you could help me,”

“I have no desire to help you. Just do what you always do and seduce the judge to get your way,”

“Then you’re committing attorney misconduct by not taking my case based on your own personal bias,”

“Just,” Madara took a deep breath, trying to remain calm and not start screaming at her. “Get out of my office. Right. Now.”

Kaguya huffed, flicking long strands of stark white hair over her shoulder.

“Suit yourself,” she said. “I’ll see you around,”

Madara found that he couldn’t focus throughout the rest of the day, his nerves agitated from seeing Kaguya. He watched the clock at the bottom of his laptop screen, the time drawing closer and closer to when he would have to go pick up Obito from kindergarten. He had texted Izuna about the meeting with Kaguya, opting to shut his phone off after hearing what sounded like a hundred vibrating buzzes. It would be easier to just talk to Izuna in person, vent out his frustration then. He would just meet him at the school, and they could all go back home and Madara would have his son safe in his sight and far away from his biological mother.

For all he cared about, she was his egg donor. Obito was _his_ child, no one else’s.

After a quick farewell to his secretary, he was on his way to Obito’s school and then home, where no one could bother him.

He was excited to hear about Obito’s first day. As he walked the halls of the school, little gremlins that were not his running about and shouting, he couldn’t help but think about how much he truly did care about his son, even if he had a hard time expressing it.

Tajima had been a cold and emotionally absent father. After their mother’s death, he distanced himself from his own children, viewing them more as strangers than his own. He barely shed a tear when their three other brothers were killed in a car accident, not even bothering to plan funerals. Madara had to do it himself as the oldest remaining son.

He hadn’t been a good example, and Madara was trying his best to not follow.

However, he had spent so many years of his adolescence suppressing his emotions and being coldhearted to everyone but his brother that fatherhood and bonding with Obito had truly been a challenge. He really tried, and Izuna even called him out when he was acting too much like their father, but he just wanted his son to have a better life than he did. A life free of the grief of losing everyone but one family member. If Madara had lost everyone, including Izuna, he had no idea what type of man he would have become.

He waited by the classroom with a few other parents, not caring to make small talk as he looked down at his watch. He was a few minutes early, and hopefully Obito would be itching to go home as badly as he was.

“Waiting’s the worst part, right?”

Madara frowned, hating someone having snuck up on him. He turned to glare at whoever dared speak to him, scanning the officer before him.

“Officer Hatake,” the silver haired man held out a hand. “Sakumo. My son’s Kakashi,”

“Madara,” Madara offered his hand, noting the firm grip.

“Which one is yours?”

“Obito,”

“It’s so nice to not be the only dad picking up my kid,” Sakumo rambled, talking with his hands. Madara barely listened, watching the shut door to the classroom with the eye of a hawk.

“Yo!”

Madara whipped his head around at the familiar voice, watching Izuna walk down the hall to him.

“You jerk, you didn’t respond to any of my messages!” he said.

Madara looked down at his phone, which he had finally turned back on.

“Because I have all the time in the world to respond to a hundred and three messages,” Madara rolled his eyes at his brother.

“Most of them are emojis. I’m only a little sorry,”

The door finally swung open, revealing Hashirama in all his handsome glory, a beaming smile spread across his face. Madara felt his heart skip a beat, his hands shaking a bit. After the whole fiasco with Kaguya this morning, all his stress melted away once he saw that amazing smile.

“Alrighty, kids! I’ll see you tomorrow!” he announced, standing with his back against the door to hold it open as the kids began filing out.

“Dad!”

Madara couldn’t help the smile that came to his face once he saw Obito rush at him, backpack swinging. He ran to his father, throwing his arms around his legs tightly.

“I see how it is,” Izuna said dramatically, and Madara immediately regretted letting his brother do a combined eight years of theater. “No love for your uncle, only for your father. I get it. I’m hideous. I suppose I’ll be on my way-”

“No! Uncle Izu!” Obito shot out a hand a grabbed at Izuna’s, looking about two seconds from crying at the prospect of his uncle leaving. “Don’t go!”

“You are actually pathetic,” Madara said, reaching down to pick up Obito and keep him away from his overly dramatic brother.

“Rude! Says the guy who couldn’t even land a role as an extra,”

“Calm down, Hamlet,” Madara stifled a snort, never one to back down teasing his brother. “How was your day, Obito?”

“It was good!” Obito smiled.

“Did you mess with your eye?”

“Nope,”

“Good,”

“I made a friend!” Obito said excitedly, and Madara was unable to stop himself from matching his son’s smile. “Her name is Rin! And I’m gonna marry her one day!”

Izuna held a hand to his heart, a dopey smile on his face.

“He’s a little romantic already!” he cooed, looking at Madara.

Madara scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Come on, let’s just go home already,”

Madara wasn’t one to indulge in feeding Obito garbage, wanting to enforce a healthy diet at a young age, but with the terrible day he had dealing with Kaguya, he needed a break.

Curled up in the living room, watching Obito build a pillow and blanket fort while they ate stovetop macaroni and cheese made the night a lot more manageable with the joy on his son’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


	4. It's a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izuna flirts his way to a date with a grumpy phD candidate

Izuna somewhat hated his job.

Madara made enough money as a lawyer that he could live way beyond comfort, but then there was also the inheritance they came into once their father died. It’s not that Izuna really needed to work, he just needed to get out of his apartment and interact with people that weren’t his family. Madara paid his tuition at the university he ended up failing out of, not bothering to attend classes in favor of people watching, taking pictures of interesting people and sketching them. The professors he had were so uppity and snobbish, proclaiming themselves as the best of the best. He could have changed his major while at the university, and by now he would have his degree and making more money doing whatever. Dorming with a stranger was no fun, his first roommate an actual sociopath. Moving into a shared flat turned out to be a disaster, his roommates disgusting and trashing the place.

University life, while letting him have the freedom he wanted, far away from Madara’s controlling tendencies after Tajima’s death, had also put him into a serious bought of depression. It also had a bit to do with their father dying, but it seemed that Madara tried to force himself into the role of a parent when he was still finishing up law school, and Izuna felt alone far away from home in an attempt at freedom.

He hated how miserable it had made him, and then halfway through his third year Madara dropped the bombshell that was Obito, and he failed out that semester to move back home. Their aunt Katsuko, Kagami’s mother, had then just opened up a coffeeshop and needed a coffee enthusiast, instantly put Izuna in a high position, and he loved it. Now, working at the coffee shop, taking art classes at the community college ten minutes from Madara’s house, life was better and much happier.

It was amusing that he was a social butterfly whereas his brother loathed talking to people and before becoming a father was relatively a shut in when he wasn’t at work. Obito had allowed for his brother to come out of the shell he receded into once their elder brothers and mother died when they were younger, letting Madara actually enjoy his family.

Izuna shook his head, pressing the key into the coffeeshop and unlocking the front door.

Time to stop reminiscing and get to work, he supposed, wishing that he was back in bed rather than up at five that cold morning.

Izuna took a sip of his caramel latte, the bell above the door chiming to alert him of a new customer.

“My favorite cousin!” he cheered, setting the cup down and hopping over the counter, making the new guy startle. The other coworkers he had, having already grown used to his antics, barely flinched. “Naori!”

“Let go of me, mouth breather,” Naori frowned, finding herself in a tight hug. “Give me my order,”

“Tough love,” Izuna teased, tightening his grasp on her. “Visiting big brother?”

She rolled her eyes, patting his back as she returned his hug. He let go, smiling.

“Was it that hard?”

“Everything with you is difficult,” Naori teased. “It’s probably because you’re adopted because you’re not a cynical asshole like Madara and me,”

“Oh, Naori,” Izuna wiped a fake tear away. “I think you’re the adopted one. You’re too ugly to be an Uchiha,”

“Uh, can I get my order?” a customer in line asked.

“Go do your job, dipshit,” she gave him a little push. “I’ve got time,”

Madara trudged into the coffeeshop five minutes later, the customers already served as Izuna sat on the counter, drinking his coffee and laughing with Naori. She laughed so hard she started choking on her chai latte, spurring Izuna to laugh at her misfortune.

“Don’t you have a job to be doing?” Madara asked, coming over to give Naori a rough pound on the back with his fist. She coughed, no longer choking.

“I am,” Izuna said boldly. “I’m interacting with customers. Also, I can’t spend time with my favorite family members?”

Madara raised an eyebrow.

“Obito is your only favorite. Now make yourself useful and get me my coffee,”

“I need an extra-large coffee, and about five expresso shots, no cream, no sugar,” Tobirama said, staring blankly across the counter at Izuna. “Can you just pour it all into one cup?”

“I can, if you want a heart attack,” Izuna tapped away at the register. “Late night?”

“Dissertation revisions,”

“Ah,”

Tobirama paid, signing his name on his card with a scribble. Izuna looked at it, eyebrow raised. That was definitely not nerdy Tobirama he knew from all those years ago in school, the nerd who was organized and always put together. Now, Tobirama stood before him a broken man, t-shirt and jeans wrinkled from sleep, hair askew, dark circles under his tired, vacant eyes. The poor man looked like he hadn’t slept in a week, mouth turned in a frown.

But damn, if he didn’t look hot.

“I’ll make you a signature pick-me-up,” Izuna said. “I’ll bring it to you, yeah? Go sit down and try not to fall asleep,”

Tobirama frowned, turning on his heel and trudging over to a window seat. Izuna peered over the coffee bar as he poured his cup of coffee, watching Tobirama set up his laptop and a large stack of papers onto the table next to it. Izuna began humming along to the song playing over the sound system, his phone hooked up in the back playing his work playlist as he grabbed the first shot of expresso, stirring it into Tobirama’s coffee.

The poor guy looked like he needed a pick-me-up that wasn’t possibly going to send him to the hospital in a body bag after his heart explodes from all the caffeine. Life wasn’t about killing oneself over a paper.

Izuna held the large mug in his hand, pausing at the bakery case and grabbing a croissant he had made that morning.

Tobirama barely managed to lift his head before Izuna set down the coffee, his hand going out to grab for it. His fingers brushed against Izuna’s, but not before Izuna put the croissant in his hand before he could slide his fingers through the handle.

“You look like you could use something to eat,” Izuna said. “It’s on the house, don’t worry,”

“Thanks,” Tobirama set the croissant down, going to take a large sip of coffee. The grimace he made after the first sip was enough to tell Izuna that yes, the cup he made probably tasted like liquid tar mixed with cigarette ashes. “What did you put in this?”

“Five shots of expresso mixed with a few ice cubes of cold brew, and then the darkest roast we have,” Izuna said, watching Tobirama drain the whole cup in one final chug. “You were supposed to sip that. If you’re up for a few days, don’t blame me. You asked for it,”

Tobirama blinked.

“Oh,”

“What’re you working on?”

“Dissertation revisions,” Tobirama repeated, gesturing to the screen in front of him, a word document open with lines upon lines of information. Izuna squinted to see the word count at the bottom of the page, and-

“312 pages?” Izuna let out a low whistle. “I struggled to write five pages in college,”

“I could tell,” Tobirama rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have a job to be doing?”

Izuna frowned.

“I suppose so,” he said, turning away to leave the grouch to himself. Tobirama was lucky he was cute, or else Izuna would have probably poured scalding hot coffee on him. He’d done it before, giving Madara the headache of having to defend his own little brother in court, and he wouldn’t stop just because of some stupid little crush.

Izuna did have to admit, though, that Tobirama had grown incredibly handsome. He no longer was the scrawny kid he had teased in middle school, not quite as tall as Hashirama, but just as muscular. Tobirama never tamed his fair hair, either, the same shaggy style it had been since he was little. Izuna barely remembered their elementary school days, but he did remember Tobirama’s little lisp when he used to ramble about dinosaurs at show and tell. It seemed now, Izuna thought as he glanced back at him, that Tobirama truly had grown up from the little brat he once was.

Tobirama was still sitting at the table working once Izuna took his mid-morning break. That was an invitation to bother him, Izuna coming over with two cups of decaf tea.

“Is it that disgusting heart attack in a glass you made me?” Tobirama said, accepting the mug warily. “My heart is _still_ pounding from it,”

“No, just plain tea, freshly steeped,” Izuna said, taking a seat across from Tobirama.

“…You know, I sat _alone_ because I need to get work done,”

“You look like you need a break, and I’m on mine,” Izuna gave him a wink before taking a bite of the salad he had. “Troubleshoot your dissertation to me,”

“Like you would be of any help. I already have the notes from the editor,”

“Editor of what?”

“The scientific journal I’m submitting it to,” Tobirama said, turning and handing Izuna a copy of the manuscript. “It’s my research on marine biomes,”

“Boring,” Izuna said, skimming the title page. “Same as ever?”

“What did you go to college for, other than taking up space?”

“All I did was take up space. I dropped out,”

“Then don’t call my magnum opus of my graduate career boring,” Tobirama snatched the manuscript from Izuna’s hands, eyes bloodshot and fixed to the computer screen.

“I’m more interested in art,” Izuna said, resting his face in his hand as he continued eating. “Art, art history, the way humans perceive the world around them and their experiences, I think _that_ is fascinating,”

“So, a useless degree if you have ever finished it,”

“I suppose,” Izuna shrugged. “But it’s more fun to look at that microorganisms,”

“Don’t you have anything else to do other than bother me? I thought you didn’t like me,”

“I thought I didn’t like you either, but here I am, giving your handsome mug free refills,”

Tobirama’s face flushed at that, and Izuna smirked.

“When’s the deadline?” Izuna asked, nodding to the paper.

“In a month,”

“Good, then you’re free,” Izuna said, getting up with his mug and trash. “I get out at two. I’m going to go home, shower, and then, we’re going to do something fun for once in your life,”

Izuna slid Tobirama a page from one of his sources, his cellphone number neatly written at the top. Tobirama sputtered, ready to say something, but Izuna was already back behind the counter, retying his apron.

Tobirama had left the café sometime after Izuna had gone into the kitchen in the back to do the dishes, finally done with his shift. The walk back to his apartment was short, taking the stairs two at a time before shutting the door of his safe haven behind him.

Izuna’s apartment was relatively empty, opting to spend most of his time crashing at Madara’s house in one of the guest bedrooms. It was simple, bare, calming, away from the bustle of the city.

Izuna pulled his hair from it’s tie, already taking off his shirt as he made his way to the bathroom.

He honestly hadn’t expected a call when he was halfway belting out a pop classic, undoing the knots in his hair and running a comb through the silky strands. He dropped the comb, swiping to answer the phone from the unknown number and setting it to speakerphone.

“Hello, Izuna speaking,” he said cheekily, already knowing who his mysterious caller was.

“Are you taking me out to do something or not?” Tobirama’s voice filled his bathroom, Izuna reaching for his blow dryer.

“I’ll text you the spot,” Izuna said, smiling down at his phone. “See you then?”

“I suppose,” Tobirama said, hanging up.

When he had woken up today, Izuna wasn’t expecting for it to be anything but a normal day.

This was much more fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! :)


End file.
